The Wizard of the World
by WritersBlockDeath
Summary: When the UN meeting is interrupted by a monstrous storm, England fusses over America's heroic sense of duty to their fellow countries. Waking up in the aftermath, however, is just the beginning. Talk about your cases of identity crisis, amnesia, and-why the hell does Prussia know magic? Wizard of Oz parody
1. I'm the Hero, Duh!

**AN: **So, this is my first ever Hetalia FanFic... I have a couple chapters typed out, but I want to go ahead and submit the first one to see if it is worth submitting here before I spend so much time on it. I enjoy writing, but I only want to share if others enjoy it too.

Sorry for the crappy summery. It was really hard to try and explain this FF without giving away anything massive with what I'm trying to do. I like writing, but I don't do this for a living, obviously. lol

**Something worthy to note, if you are interested:** I do not have a **beta**. :( If any of you reading this would love to read and edit my work, I would be thrilled! I don't want to botch the world of Hetalia or even my own English language, so the help is much wanted. :) Also, the rearranging of my sentences might be needed for clarification. I'm bad at clarity, I fear...

**FYI:** this is a parody fic. Surely, everyone can guess by the material and name of this fiction, but just in case...

Now, without further ado: the fic!

**The Wizard of the World**

**Chapter One: I'm the Hero, Duh!**

Every day seems to have its ups and downs. Some days would grace certain individuals with plenty of good and maybe a small margin of bad; others…not so much. Others would suffer the exact opposite. What's worse: some people could wake up and just _tell_ what kind of day was in store for them. How the hell do you make it through a day when you already _know_ it's going to be shitty?

The United States of America is the kind of guy that likes to think he is a home hitter for being pretty damn lucky with not just good, but _awesome_ days, and most of the time he is. This morning, however, is a minor setback…

The good news was today had started well enough. America was only running twenty minutes late for the world conference, a new record in early tardiness! He was practically on time! He couldn't spare time for McDonald's, unfortunately, but cold pizza worked just as effectively. Lastly, America could recite his speech without even bothering to look at the notes. He was in for the clear.

The bad news…the weather freaking blew…literally. The angry looking, black clouds of death were menacing enough to make America want to crawl back into his warm bed and forget today ever happened…not to mention the wind of mass destruction. He had a guy back at his residence of New York repairing a couple windows that had been blown to smithereens by the shutters. And this was supposed to be the _best_ time of the day…freaking Mother Nature, man.

As stated before though, America was pretty damn fortunate when it came to awesomeness, and he made it to the conference without a hitch! Unless you want to count those measly twenty minutes, but who was counting?

"You are approximately thirty-two minutes late to your own _home conference_, America!"

Apparently angry German men kept exact count of these measly things…

"Hey, it's totally cool! You've seen that crazy wind, right? I'm lucky I got here in one piece! My house is practically in shambles, so cut me some slack."

Germany sighs, holding the bridge of his nose. "I do not wish to hear your excuses. Get on with the meeting. We do not have all day."

All eyes were on America as he slung his briefcase over one shoulder and headed towards the podium. Conversations were whispered back and forth to continue any chit-chat that had not been finished before his arrival.

One defined whisper calls out to him, "_I believe broken windows and 'house in shambles' are entirely different things, git._"

America sticks out his tongue as he passes behind England's seat. It was so lame how he would call America's cell as soon as his tardiness hit the fifteen minute marker. Something about how America wasn't reliable after that point or whatever. Please, it was more like England wanted to make sure he wasn't dead in a ditch somewhere. _'Thanks, mom, I can take care of myself!'_ was America's go-to goodbye for such calls.

America steps up to the podium and gives the proper introductions while he withdraws a binder from his briefcase to address his concerns. Things had to be livened up a bit, what with the dreary weather and all, so naturally his favorite topic would take the lead.

"Alright, here's what I'm thinking for this new health program being mandated!" A chart was pulled and unfolded, showing stick figures and circles drawn all over the place. America quickly dives in and starts explaining his plan. "I've got these pretty cool scientists doing all these super awesome experiments based on this idea I have come up with. There's a new form of energy that will actually _eat_ the unwanted, fatty carbohydrates and outrageous number of calories in food! It's like a superhero virus to everything bad for a person's diet! Sounds great, right? No more counting calories, stressing out to fit in your new suit, or worrying about stepping on that scale ever again as far as I'm concerned!" America thumps his chest proudly before slamming both hands against the podium and looking around. "What do you guys think?"

"This sounds amazing, America-san," Japan offers, "but what exactly is this new form of… 'energy' you speak of?"

"Oh, dude, that's all for the scientists. What do you think they're getting paid for anyways?"

America could hear a few groans and a disappointed _tsk_ from nearby. The latter annoys him the most. "Got a problem with my plan, England?"

"It is _'do you have,' _and yes, I _do_ have a problem, not unlike every country here. Are you capable of performing one blasted meeting with pragmatic topics that _make_ _sense_? We sit here in the middle of a storm while you waste precious time speaking from your arse!"

Yeah, it's pretty obvious. England is totally jealous of this innovative thinking.

"Just because I've come up with something revolutionary doesn't mean you got to go and get your old man panties in a wad." America grins, ready to add more fuel to the fire already consuming England.

"_Revolutionary_?! This is rubbish! How can you-"

A loud crashing sounds from behind America, causing the country to flinch. He swivels around at the touch of rough pressure slamming into his back. The windows directly behind the podium were empty, shards of glass scattered across the floor and up the podium steps. The shutters flap eerily against the empty frames, wind howling and blowing into the room. Papers scatter across the table and floor at the disturbance.

The American sees dismal clouds racing their way across the sky. It takes him a moment to pry his eyes away from the scary sight and back to the countries at the table. The volume is overwhelming with the storm raging past the safety of the walls, chaotic chatter ensuing, and sudden movements away from the windows.

England catches his attention. He was standing, but unmoving from his position at the table and staring right back at America with a sense of dimming expectancy. America taps his fingers lightly against the podium and pulls at his tie. He wasn't a fan of this kind of pressure. Here he was, feeling judged while the rest of the world was fretting over some broken glass and wind. Damn, this was to see how capable and responsible he could be, wasn't it?

Then again, America wasn't called a hero for nothing now, was he?

"Hey, everyone, listen up!"

The room half quieted, filling it to the brim with nervous tension in wait for America to speak, to direct.

"Here's the game plan: we're all going to take a breather and walk out of here in an orderly fashion, got it? No screaming and flailing around over a little wind." He wasn't sure if anyone heard. If they did, they disregarded every word. Most were rushing towards the exit door.

However, the doors burst open before a single country could grab the knob. "_Everyone_!" A new, panicked voice rang out. Denmark was panting as he spoke, "We have to get to the basement _this instant_! A tornado was spotted touching down south of here!"

It was utter chaos in a matter of seconds. Every country in the room began to panic and run for the doorway Denmark had occupied.

America was frozen as he watched the horror unfold before him. Countries were pushing and shoving to get through the doors all at once. Italy began crying and dove under the table when he could not immediately exit the doors with Germany pleading and reaching for him to come out. Japan was still in his seat, hands over his ears and shaking until China snatched at his arm and roughly pulled him up. Somehow that guy that lives above America got into all of this mess too. His eyes were tearing up as France pulled him to another set of doors to the right side of the room. They were locked, but Switzerland was there in seconds to blast off the knobs and hinges with his gun and allows more panicked countries out.

"America! _America_, what are you doing?! _Get a move on_!"

Something was ringing in his ear: pure panic. It snaps America from his trance and he focuses on a pair of fierce, emerald eyes beside him.

"We have to leave _now_, America!" England's hand was tightening around America's jacket sleeve, pulling with urgency.

Without warning, America tosses the smaller man over his shoulder. He hoped his body knew what it was doing because there was no thought or plan running through his mind, but _get England to the basement_. Said country began growling obscenities and proclaiming his legs worked just fine as they set off through the side doors Switzerland had blown holes in.

The rest of the building didn't appear to suffer damage by wind or debris, but the small creaks of the building didn't leave much hope for that to keep true. A chorus of shattering glass fills the air as America keeps his pace down the main hall. England's protests quieted and he chose to hold on to America as tightly as possible. Carrying him like a sack over the shoulder was no longer reasonable and America adjusted England into his arms.

"I can walk, America! I'm not hurt…" England made sure to lean in and speak in America's ear so that he could hear over the constant sound of shutters banging and glass shattering.

"Sorry, England, kinda busy doing hero things right now," he yelled more effectively.

"You insufferable little…"

"Made it!" America swiftly lets go of England's legs before the open door to the basement. England readjusts his tousled suit while they make their way down the long stairway. Halfway down they reach a platform that turns and continues down to the basement floor. At least this place was deep enough to keep America's mind at ease. Everyone would be fine even if the tornado landed on top of them…hopefully.

"Next time you want to be the bleeding _hero_, how about being mindful to what-! America, your arm!" There was a small sting when England pulled on his left arm, halting their descent further.

"_Ow_, you don't have to go and grab it!" England quickly retracts his hand when America snatches his arm away. There is a nicely sized slit made into his bomber jacket. He removes his arm from the sleeve to see another slit in the sleeve of his suit and dress shirt, revealing the meat of his arm. A dark stain runs from just under his shoulder to his elbow. "Damn…must have happened when the windows broke in the conference room…ugh, and it ruined my favorite jacket too!" That's great, just perfect…it _had_ to be the arm and not some other part of his anatomy. Okay, so there are worse areas to have cut, but his _bomber jacket_?

"America…does it hurt…?" The tender gaze England has glued to America's arm makes him uneasy. No doubt the man was about to get all maternal, or whatever this fussy crap England pulled was, but America couldn't have a worried mother hen on his hands at the moment.

"Ha! It's just a flesh wound! What's a hero without battle scars? Didn't even feel it!" America laughs it off and continues down the stairs without waiting for a reply. Enough of this pity-party for his jacket and arm. It was time to see who else had made it down so far.

"Hey-o! Hero's here with England in tow. Who else came to this rager?"

"Now's not really the time to joke around, eh?" a timid voice answers.

"Amerique sees everything as a joke, non?"

America bounds down the last few steps and grins to the two unamused countries. "Chill out. This storm will blow over, no problemo. And if not, you guys act like we're not embodied superpowers that can survive just about everything."

France scoffs. "You act as if it is that simple."

America laughs. "No wonder you're the first down here, Frenchie. I'll give it to you though; you're probably the only one who noticed…er, what was-"

"I'm _Canada_!" the quiet country looks hurt.

"Oh, right! You're the only one who noticed Canada was even at the meeting, so I'll thank you for taking care of him at least."

Canada lowers his eyes and shifts his feet, looking like a kicked puppy.

America punches the side of his neighbor country's arm playfully. "Just kidding, I would've totally had your back if France hadn't already put a vise grip on ya."

"France didn't put a-!"

"That's real cute, but catch me up on it later, bro." America turns to examine who else had made it to the basement, finding the Nordics speaking amongst themselves in the corner beneath the stairway and Switzerland comforting Liechtenstein by themselves towards the back. "Shouldn't everyone else be getting here soon? There aren't a lot of us down here even though we all left around the same time."

"I do hope so…" The British nation stands by America, showing no mind to anything but the tear in the bomber jacket.

"Ugh, staring at it like that won't fix it!"

"Well, I would _prefer_ to fix it!" England's pissy switch flips instantly and he points a finger at America's face. Yep, here comes the ferocious mother hen… "You will not let me look at it, let alone touch it! Your arm needs to be wrapped in bandages as opposed to sitting there festering with infection!"

"No way. Unlike you, I'm a man and can tolerate a little scratch."

"_Pompous wanker_… You are such a _child_."

There was a fist fight in the making and America was almost ready to oblige until the steady creaking of boards caught his and everyone else's attention. Japan comes into view, holding onto his arm that looks much like America's.

"Japan, are you quite alright? Oh, dear… Let me have a look at you." England was by Japan as the Asian country rested against the wall. His black hair was a mess and sticking to his sweaty face.

"I am fine, but China was right behind me… He told me to go ahead without him. I believe he heard something." Poor Japan was out of breath. Everything upstairs must not be as smooth sailing as America thought… He glances up the stairs in hopes to see if someone, _anyone_, would descend down as Japan continued his explanation, "I felt guilty for leaving and turned back to find him. I wound up running in circles, not knowing where he went…"

"I am certain China will be fine. Here, let me take care of your arm while you relax." The older English nation pulls a white handkerchief from his suit and begins ripping it to substitute for a bandage.

A small snort escapes America at the sight. He is given an 'eat-shit' look in response.

"_Out-dated, old man_," America whispers under his breath.

More creaks are heard and America watches as China leads Austria and Hungary down to the basement floor, all three looking a bit winded.

"What happened?" Japan inquires.

The trio sits down against the wall as China explains. "I heard these two on the way to the basement. A tree had been uprooted and thrown down on the ceiling beams, trapping Austria. I heard both yelling and had to make sure they were helped, aru."

A yelp directed everyone's attention to Austria. He was rubbing his arm and giving Hungary a dubious look.

"Don't you _dare_ tell me to leave you again! Can you not trust me to help you?"

"Hungary, it is not like that at all! I only wished for your safety…_ow_, please stop hitting me!"

America tries his best not to snigger and focuses back on China while the two countries bickered. "Way to take the hero position away! I only rescued one damsel in distress while you bagged three all in one go!"

China smiles and opens his mouth to respond, but is interrupted, "I beg your pardon; I am clearly _not_ a damsel!" England ties the handkerchief a little too tight, causing Japan to let out a small squeak.

"Hon hon hon, I believe we bystanders need proof of said declarations, Angleterre."

"Belt up, frog!"

"Please, you're more of a dame than Lichtenstein over there," America teases. "Real men wouldn't be caught dead carrying around a weeping rag." He points to Japan's now fully bandaged arm.

"It has a purpose you uncultured git! It declares a social class and is quite gentlemanly!"

"Yeah, maybe this time last century."

China and Japan share a smile and small chuckle.

"Ah, this playful romance, it can even be found in the dreariest of dungeons with the cruelest of winds howling at the door." France extends his hand, holding a rose, which came from nobody-wants-to-know-where.

"What the bloody hell are you spouting off now?!"

"Yeah, Hungary and Austria aren't even being playful, dude. I kinda think she's about to rip his head off over here…"

France sighs and covers his eyes for a moment before massaging his temple. "Ah, how could I be mistaken…?" He glances up when Canada giggles. "At least you understand, mon cheri."

China chuckles again, stands, and brushes himself off. "This has been most fun time, but I worry for the others. Everyone has not found their way…aru."

Japan stands as well. "You must not go alone. I can come too."

"It is fine. You should rest, little brother."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" America grabs both Asian countries by the shoulders. "Neither of you guys are going up there. Japan's arm is broken-"

"-America-san, my arm is not-"

"-and China's already stolen the hero spotlight three times too many-"

"-but I am only trying to he-"

"-I think it's time for the _real hero _to save the day."

England crosses his arms and raises a brow. "By your standards, your arm is as inoperable as Japan's. How ever can a 'real hero' save the day then? Do tell."

America lets go of Japan and China to huff and turn to England. "I told you already it's a _flesh wound_. Plus, every super hero has a handicap, like kryptonite to Superman, noise pollution to Daredevil,-"

"-Absence of brain to America…"

"Uhm, guys…" Canada tries to intervene to no avail.

America has the collar of England's dress shirt in the left hand while his right starts to ball up. England mirrors his moves, pulling America's tie tightly. "Come on, eyebrows, say it one more time. _I_ _double dog dare you_."

"Guys…"

"Right then." England was practically choking America with his tie at this point. "You're a bloody tosser, a total cock up, a daft twat; I could go on if you like, or can your soft brain even understand proper English insults? Oh, right, you don't own one in that _empty head of yours_."

"Guys, please…China is leaving by himself and… Oh no…!"

America's fist met England's cheek bone with a hard smack. England took no time in rearing back and throwing his own punch against America's nose, knocking his glasses off. The two were wrestling on the floor in seconds, grunting insults back and forth.

"It is fine, Canada. They only want to amuse the audience with their brutality while we wait out this storm. No harm is done… Hm… Now whose clothes do you suppose will be ripped off?"

"Eh…"

England rolls on top of America and throws another punch at his face. America catches it and grins. England returns the expression and says lowly, "The smartest thing to ever come out of your mouth was a _dick_."

America pauses a moment and blinks up at England. He cracks a smile and laughs, "Ha, I bet you get off thinking about me sucking dick, huh?"

There is a roar of laughter, mostly French, as England's face burns scarlet. He jumps off the younger nation as though any contact could scald him. "I-you-! I-I never-! How could you even suggest something so _vulgar_!"

America gives him the one finger salute. "You're the one who started it by suggesting I give blow jobs. And here I thought you were a prude, old man."

"Angleterre is lacking a, should we say, sensual pleasure when it concerns a certain petit Amerique…or so he would lead us to believe." France rubs his chin between his fingers as England somehow turns a shade redder. It isn't long before the Brit has his hands wrapping around the French man's neck with a fretting Canada trying to calm them both down.

America stands and brushes his rear off. He looks to France questioningly. "You know, you speak in a weird way that I can't even understand what the hell you're saying half the time." America turns from the second fight brewing, picks up his glasses, and wipes them clean. He looks up to the countries that had yet to take part in their fun conversation and grins playfully as he places the frames back on his nose. "Hey, in case any of you guys missed it: England really likes the D! And he _really_ likes picturing me taking the D! Pretty weird in-the-closet shit, huh? Aguh!" England had his hands around America's throat, seething and whispering threats.

"Please, someone, anyone, help!" Everyone pauses to watch as China flies down the flight of stairs. "I found Russia and others! I could not get them to move on my own! Please, _everyone_, this is serious! Belarus is injured!"

The room grows very quiet. All the countries present let the shock sink in. England slowly loosens his grip around his former colony's neck, then lets go altogether. The shock even settles in America and slows his own movements to help, which really pisses him off. No one else was acting quickly enough either, but really, who else would step up other than him anyways?

"Don't worry, I'll go up there and make sure I get everyone back safe and sound. Every single one of them!" America senses England tense beside him, but chooses to disregard him, marching towards China and up the stairs.

Canada's soft voice is heard, hesitantly asking for him to stay where it is safer. America only continues up the stairs, ignoring his neighbor country as easily as if he wasn't even there.

China bows when America passes and begins to follow behind, but America swiftly turns around and holds a hand up. "I know you want to be a hero like me, but I gotta ask you real nice not to. If it really is as bad as you say then it's better for me to go alone." He glances to the rest of the countries sitting and standing in the dank basement. His eyes meet England's and he feels a small twinge of guilt coil in his stomach when seeing the concerned expression under the bruises from their brawl. "China, could you and Japan maybe watch the door and help anyone you see coming? That's just as heroic really."

"_But what if you get hurt_?" China whispers. Distress clouds the much older nation's eyes, but it didn't make a dent compared to England, well, not too much anyways.

America isn't too used to displays of concern for his well being, and he's even worse at reacting to it. It just feels awkward… He tries his most charming of smiles and winks to China. "I don't see you reading comics often, so maybe that's your problem here. You know, super heroes get hurt all the time, no lie. I even have hundreds of issues to prove it! Do you know why they get hurt?" America couldn't help but glance down the stairs one last time, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he preps himself for what awaits.

China appears reluctant, but shakes his head to America's question.

"Because they have something important to protect, _duh_…and-and all of my friends are important to me!" He wouldn't let China speak another word. Heroes always marched off to battle after they spread their words of wisdom…and it would have been really humiliating had China seen how red America's face was now, but that was beside the point!

America is up the stairs and back out into the small hallway before anyone has the chance to follow. He can feel a draft right here without any windows nearby…the wind is getting pretty severe…

America runs down the hall until he reaches the main hallway of the building. There was a large tree blocking half the hall, having been slung straight through the roof. This must be the tree China spoke of.

A few shingles fall to America's feet as he approaches. He can see the dangerous spinning swirls of clouds from the gaping hole. He knows there isn't much time before something other than shrubbery begins to hit… And China had said Belarus was hurt… Good thing they had a hero coming to their rescue! What could go wrong?

America climbs over the hurdle before him. He hits the ground running down the large hall, keeping his senses alert to his surroundings. He didn't have to go too far before hearing panicked voices coming from a room that looked to be half destroyed.

As he passes through the ruined doorway all he can see is a large table being propped up on its side with the back of Russia's head bowed down. Most of the ceiling and outer wall was laying on the floor in a heap, allowing debris from outside to fly in at terrifying speeds. A steel beam that looks to have once been used to hold up a road sign was twisted and sticking out of the wall just to the right of the door.

The nation swallows hard when he notes red streaks and a small puddle in the center of the room. A fairly small tree branch sits beside the scene, completely covered in something wet and dark on one end… America covers his eyes for a moment to find his resolve. Everything will be okay. Everyone will be okay. They have to be. He inhales sharply and runs across the room, arms protectively blocking his face and ready to strike at anything thrown his way.

"Yo, Russia! Your knight in shining armor has arrived, so it'd be pretty awesome if you'd accept this rescue before-" America's throat constricts around his words when the much larger country turns to look at him.

From his left cheek bone down to his neck, Russia has been spattered red. The scarf he cherishes and has always worn is covered just the same. Even more worrisome was the complete shock and paleness to the large man's face…and the confusion and fear reflecting in his eyes… "Wh-what…" America moves closer to the table and feels a wave of nausea wash over him when a strong metallic smell hits his senses.

Beyond the overturned table lay Belarus, limp on the floor and much too pale for her normal complexion. A puddle dark as pitch encircles her head and neck while the front of her torso looks to be drenched in the sickly red substance. Ukraine is kneeling next to Belarus's head, holding it still while her tears fall down to her little sister's face. Lithuania and Poland only glance up to America for a second before returning back to their work. Both of their hands work gently, wrapping a long piece of cloth around Belarus's neck. As every piece is wound around it soaks in the blood freely flowing from the unmoving country.

"…_shit_…what happened to her?" America falls to his knees behind Russia and watches in horror… This…this was worse than he imagined when China had been pleading…

Russia does not appear to hear America's question. He only sits and stares at Belarus and the gore surrounding her.

"Russia…?"

The man doesn't turn to face America. "We were going to be first to the basement…"

The pause is unsettling. He wonders if Russia will continue or leave off with that statement. America opens his mouth to say something, anything, "I-Russia, I'm-"

"We heard Poland and Lithuania. They sounded to be in trouble, so we came here." Russia slightly shrugs his shoulders to indicate the room they were sitting in. America looks closer at the two countries bandaging Belarus's neck. Lithuania's thigh appears to have been bleeding through his pants… "The ceiling was much like it is now. Wind just as bad. I did not see, but Belarus did…something coming from outside." Russia stares down to his bloodied hands in his lap. "She shoved me. At first, I was angry. Then…I saw blood…and the branch protruding from her neck. I-I wanted to help…"

America pieces together the rest from the bloodied evidence he walked in on when he first entered the room. Russia had panicked and removed the branch from Belarus's neck… America tries his best to keep the renewed nausea at bay.

"Russia…we _have_ to leave now. It isn't _safe_!" The wind's howl was only getting stronger overhead. The debris flying against the remaining bit of outer wall and through the hole in the ceiling was a good testament to America's words. The room was nothing more than a ticking time bomb.

"No, I cannot… Belarus-"

"_Russia_…" America uses his most somber tone and expression, "if you don't leave this spot _right now_, you're not only risking Belarus's life, but everyone else's! This isn't something you can just man up and take! We _have_ to leave! What would you do if Ukraine, Lithuania, or Poland was hurt too?"

Russia digests this for a long moment. "Lithuania, Poland…have you finished with Belarus's dressing?"

Both men examine Belarus's neck with hesitance. Lithuania finally nods once. "This is the best we can do for now…"

"Good. All of you get up and follow America. I will handle Belarus."

America stands and does what he can to help Russia pick up the lifeless body. Russia silently thanks America once Belarus has been cradled in his strong arms. America tries to smile, but is unsure how genuine it is. He looks to Ukraine, Lithuania, and Poland. "Are you guys ready? We're going to run straight to the basement, no stopping, got it? This storm is waiting for no one. Not even us countries."

They all nod in unison and follow America closely out to the main hall.

The process seems to take longer than necessary. Everyone is running with America down the long stretch towards the fallen tree, but it feels to be a lifetime before they near it. All America can picture is blood, Belarus, and the second smile her neck offers up to him. He shivers and forces the thoughts away… Everyone will be okay…

It isn't until the tree is right before them that they realize just how annoying of an obstacle it is. America wastes no time and grabs hold of the trunk with both hands to lift it as high as his arms will allow. He imagines throwing it to the side, but better judgment tells him not to try and move it for fear of causing this section of the building to collapse further.

Everyone passes under safely and America rests the tree back on the wooden floor. He quickly directs the small group to the basement door, thankful nothing else had flown into the building while on their trip.

China and Japan are on the ready to help as needed. Japan holds Ukraine's hand until they reach the bottom while Poland acts as a crutch for Lithuania. China is by Russia's side, questioning the status of Belarus and Lithuania while preparing an area to lay the female country's body. A handful of countries surround the scene of Belarus, chattering nervously amongst themselves.

America watches from his perch on the platform between staircases and inhales a sharp breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. He looks down to his blood stained hands from handling Belarus earlier, and the mental images and nausea hit home all over again. "No-no-no!" Heroes dealt with blood on a regular basis. Now wasn't the time to be sick!

America flinches when he hears a few creaks coming from below.

"America-san...you are pale…and shaking." Japan climbs the steps until he sees the blood covering America's hands.

"Yeah, I know, pretty lame of me right? Been through more wars than I could even count right now and the sight of blood on my hands is kinda freaking me out…" America laughs nervously.

"…these are completely different circumstances."

America starts to rub the back of his head and grimaces, retracting his hand slowly. Better watch what he touches…though, it probably didn't matter anyhow. His clothes were already ripped here and there from climbing over the fallen tree, so he wipes his palms against them.

Just down the staircase China is unwrapping Belarus's neck while a majority of the other countries watch in both curiosity and fear for the poor woman.

"Looks like more countries made it back while I was out on my rescue mission." Spain and Romano were on the outskirts of the group surrounding Belarus. The southern Italian man is glancing about the room with a scowl on his face that looks to be worry while Spain calmly pets the small man's head. America picks up a few others out of the crowd with relief for everyone's safety. He searches a few moments until he finds the mop of blonde hair he is searching for sitting down towards the back of the room with the cute, little fluff-ball, which was Flower-Egg, in his lap.

England is petting the little puppy, but his attention focuses on the commotion going on around Belarus. Finland is going on and on about something next to him and laughing lightly. Sweden is propped against the wall close by, looking as though he could rip Finland's head off any second. France and some guy with a weird curl in his hair are sitting around England, joining in on Finland's conversation. Every now and then France attempts to pet Flower-Egg until Sweden's gaze sends France shrinking back.

It's apparent that staring too long sets off the Mother Hen radar because England's eyes flick straight up to America. Great, he thought the man was annoying before… A tornado shows up to the conference and suddenly England's got to act like Parent of the Year. It wasn't long before Flower-Egg was flopping around in Finland's lap once more and all conversation halted in the small group while England stands and storms towards the staircase.

"He seems happy to see you safe." The Japanese nation tilts his head and cups his chin thoughtfully.

America laughs at the observation only because 'happy' England's monster eyebrows had somehow united to create a frightening caterpillar over his eyes. "Yeah, and I think your English is getting a little rusty."

England huffs as he climbs the set of steps to America's level. For a moment the peeved man only gives his body a thorough scan…then a second one, or so it feels. It was weird either way.

"Uh…eyes up here, buddy?"

This was obviously the wrong thing to say. "Don't you _buddy _me, you ingrate! Do you have any inkling to how wor-er, _never mind_!" America quirks a brow when England shakes his head. "Just… Are you bloody happy now that everyone is safe? Or do you have another absurd agenda such as frolicking off to ensure the safety of what's-his-name's bear?"

America blinks. "What, someone has a _bear_? Since when?! Why haven't I ever seen it? That's so _badass_!"

England growls something inaudible as he pinches the bridge of his nose.

A small sigh escapes Japan. The man appears thoughtful, as if considering something very far away, and then turns to look up the staircase.

America waves a hand in front of Japan's face. "Hey, what's up? Gotta go take a leak? Ow!" Something hard smacked into the back of his head. He rubs the sore spot and glares back to England and his fist.

Japan flushes slightly. "N-Not exactly…" His eyes continue their gaze up the staircase. "I am worried… Italy and Germany-san…I have not seen them since the meeting…"

"_S-Seriously_?" Well, that came out far shakier than America intended. He quickly clears his throat and tries again, "I mean, what are you doing just sitting on information like that while I'm standing here! I have to go like, _right now_!"

With little thought he makes a run for the door, but a force yanks on his jacket. America doesn't think of himself as one to get angry often, but he can feel his already low patience running out. "England, we don't have time for-" He turns to see the Asian country instead holding onto his jacket with determination in his eyes.

"Forgive me, but I was not requesting for you to find them, America-san. You have done enough already." Japan flicks his eyes to the dried blood on America's hands. "I only wanted to disclose my purpose to you."

"N-No way! If you're going out there, then so am I."

"No. Stay here with England and the others. What if they need you and you are not here?"

America opens his mouth to retaliate, but England seizes his arm and squeezes tightly. For once, America glumly takes the hint and nods, but he doesn't feel good about it in the slightest.

"I shall return. I promise."

America clenches his teeth as Japan's swift steps on the creaking boards fade. He doesn't speak until he hears rushing wind and the slam of a door. "Damn it…why'd you have to go and side with him?"

"You can trust Japan. He is exceptionally capable for the task. Mind you, I do worry too." The constricting hold finally loosens on America's arm, but it lingers. "Now you can empathize with how everyone feels when you go prancing off…"

"I don't fucking care how I make anyone feel. All I care about is how I'm sitting here while our friends are all up there with a fucking tornado for company! I hate being useless!"

"America, you…you are a _number_ of things, but not useless…" England seems to realize he's still holding the younger nation's arm and lets go of it to fiddle with his tie.

America looks up the stairs, knowing there was no way he would be able to sit here twiddling his thumbs until all three countries were safely in the basement. "I'm going back up there."

England nearly rips the tie in his hands. "What? No, don't be stupid!"

The patience is long gone when America feels his arm tugged once more. He whirls on England. "They're our _friends_! Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

England doesn't budge. "Of course it does, but-"

"But what? You're just wasting time I could be spending helping them!"

"We're embodied countries… It's not as though any of this will kill us."

"Yeah? Well you obviously didn't see that gaping hole in Belarus's neck!"

"She will recover!"

"Then why won't you let me go?!"

England pauses. He lets loose of his hold, giving America the escape he needs, snatching his arm away so that he could dash up the stairs before England grabs hold of him again. "America, stop!"

America rushes up the second set of stairs as fast as he can. He is in the small hall and slamming the basement door behind him in a matter of seconds. There was very little time left, he knew, but he couldn't leave even one country behind. He vaults over the fallen tree with success and continues towards the meeting room they had occupied not even an hour ago. The memory of Germany pleading for Italy to come out from under the table is clear. How they had not made it any further…America did not want to start assuming things…

The image of Belarus with her bloodied neck and Russia painted in her blood flicked to mind. America shakes his head for what felt to be the millionth time that day and instead pictures a frightened Italy and Germany waiting to be rescued.

America approaches the main doorway leading into the conference room and freezes. Nothing but collapsed beams and bits of ceiling can be seen beyond the threshold. His heart is pounding in his ears and a lump forming in his throat. No, they couldn't be…

There was no way around this hindrance unless America wanted to be caught by the storm climbing and pushing his way through all the wood bits. He thinks back to the side door Switzerland blasted and rushes further down a smaller hall. America hisses a small 'yes!' to himself when he sees the doorway still intact and nothing barricading him from the room.

Beyond the doorway, and much to America's relief, three figures were in sight.

Germany is lying on the floor in a state of unconsciousness. There is a red streak in his blond hair, dyeing a small patch a gruesome brown. Italy is kneeling beside him, crying uncontrollably and fretting in a stressed Italian and English mix of 'I'm sorry' and 'forgive me'. His hands shake the man slightly as though trying to wake him up. Japan is bent over in front of the wreckage that used to be the conference table and ceiling just above it; he is hastily throwing board after board over his shoulder.

America hurries to Japan's side. "What are you doing?! Italy and Germany are _clearly_ right behind you!"

Japan jumps at America's voice and turns to give him a hard look. He opens his mouth to probably start a lecture, but stops to mull something over quickly. "Help Italy. He can barely carry Germany on his own."

"And why am I just leaving you here?"

Japan persists in digging through the wood. "It's Prussia… He showed up to the meeting again without the knowledge of anyone…"

"You're kidding…" He watches his friend for a moment, letting it sink in, and then kicks the nearest board across the room. "Damn it, Prussia!" America uses all his strength to lift as many pieces of wood and debris as possible.

"Italy told me Prussia had helped them…that is why it is not Germany under here…but he was still unlucky… Italy managed to pull Germany that far by himself." Japan tilted his head to the crying country's vicinity.

"Look, how about instead of all of us getting swept up, you take Germany and Italy back to the basement while I look for Prussia. _Don't argue with me_." America gave the Japanese man a stern look when he could foretell the 'I asked you first' on the tip of his tongue.

"…Fine." Japan has the smallest hint of irritation and something else America couldn't decipher flash in his eyes. "Be safe, America."

As agreed, Japan makes quick time of standing and speaking to Italy. The crying stops and shortly after a few scrapes of movement are made as the two works together to pick up and move the unconscious country.

Another large piece of drywall is tossed to the side and America pauses. The faintest hint of white can be spotted buried just a few feet under. His heart soars and he cheers at the prospect of being able to sit in the basement, content with all of his friends safely around him.

Something moves in his peripheral vision and the familiar feeling of being hit in the gut strikes when another pair of hands joins in the excavation.

"_God_ _damn it_, England, you don't belong out here! Why can't you just leave everything to me for once and go pet puppies or something?" In America's rage he shoulders a hefty piece that looks to be the ceiling itself and pushes it out of the way.

"Can we just get on with this? We clearly don't have the time for idle chatter." England nervously looks up to the stormy skies.

America groans loudly as he furiously thrusts a branch overhead. "You're so fucking annoying! All you ever do is get in my way!"

The English man stops short of pulling a table leg and exhales shakily. "So what? You only see me as a burden…?" He recounts something. "You think I'm useless."

"_Exactly_ what I'm getting at." America reaches as far as he can into the pile and brushes Prussia's clothes. With another push he grasps the collar of the man's uniform and pulls. "I've got Prussia!"

"Brilliant then…"

"What was that?" England sounded far away. The sucking of the wind and the building creaking around them didn't help much. Hopefully he finally took the hint and was leaving. Maybe he did because there wasn't an answer. Good.

With one final yank, America had Prussia's body in both arms and out of the wreckage. He stumbled back a bit, but felt himself righted before he could fall to the ground. He bristles to the hand resting against the small of his back as a support.

Before America has the chance to say or do anything, the furthest wall of the room was snatched high into the air. The blood runs cold in his veins as he watches it spin out of control and out of sight. This was it. He tightens his grip on the albino man before throwing him to the side and out of the way when the wall comes back around, hurdling straight for them.

Something warm wraps around America's middle and he is slung to the ground much like Prussia. His skull hits the wood floor hard and something heavy collapses against him, crushing his body. For a moment he only sees a blur of darkness and bright spots. When his vision clears a little he tries to move his body, but finds he is successfully pinned down.

America lifts his head and feels his consciousness slip. Blond hair is the last thing he sees before everything goes black.

**End Chapter One**


	2. This is Uncomfortably Familiar

Chapter Two: This is Uncomfortably Familiar…

At first, there is a faint lightness. It feels similar to being submerged beneath the water, but the ability to breathe was still there. There is total darkness all around and a cool breeze wafting by, smoothing over all of the tense muscles and completely loosening all of the senses to a clear mind. Small tingling sensations pulses with every heartbeat and gives the body full euphoria.

This…is the greatest peace… Is this what it's like to die…?

"_Hey." _Something interrupts this tranquility; a voice calling out. It's familiar and harsh as it speaks. _"I told you to leave."_ Through the shroud of darkness a mass of golden hair emerges, one stray lock pointing skyward. The baby blue eyes are cold as ice behind the bearer's glasses. _"I don't need you."_

A large weight strikes the abdomen, knocking all the breath away. Panic jolts England awake and he pants heavily, trying to regain his right of mind from the vivid dream. It was quite foolish, really. America would never be that cruel, at least, not these days…

"_Useless."_

Waves of nausea wash over his body and he shakes at the pure soreness covering him. Even the bit of light shining causes his head to ache and he shields his eyes behind both arms.

What the bloody hell happened? England rubs his eyes lightly, finding it too hard a task to reflect on more than the dream. Perhaps he went off the deep end the previous night and agreed to drinks with France… This doesn't appear to be too unlikely since every fiber of his being was screaming at him…

England fumes at the thought, but remains still until his senses return to a normal enough state to call attention to the very rough ground he was laying on. Something was definitely wrong with this picture… No matter how pissed England got, he always made sure he slept on something flat and comfortable, not…rutted and back-breaking.

"What…?" England keeps his eyes shut as he slowly sits up. The constant hammer of his pulse begins to feel less brutal to his well-being, but he can tell his body has been through hell.

He blinks open one eye to test the waters on his headache with positive results. He rubs both eyes tenderly before opening them fully.

A large mound of broken wood and drywall stops his heart almost instantly.

"_You think I'm useless."_

"Exactly_ what I'm getting at."_

His heart thuds harder and harder as the horrid memory engulfs him. "A-America?" A quick scan of the area concludes little more than the known wreckage dealt to what was once the conference room, but why was it a wreck again?

England is still in a bit of a dreamlike fog, unable to piece the puzzle together. He glances down at his hands and flexes his fingers. Was this even happening right now? For all he knew he could still be stuck in his own delusions of reality. This wouldn't be the first time… Yes, that was exactly it. This had to be a dream. Nothing was making sense. The false memory of America just caught him off guard was all.

England shakes off the worry. He stands and slowly brushes his suit off. This feels real enough, but, then again, most dreams did… He turns and sees the large crumpled mass that had once been a wall…

His chest swells and eyes widen as the final piece is laid before him.

"_I've got Prussia!"_

"_Brilliant then…"_

"_What was that?"_

"America!" England has his shaking hands on the collapsed wall in seconds, mustering up every bit of strength he has to lift it up.

America had seen the wall flying towards them, England recalls. He had seen it and thought to throw Prussia out of the way. Why? Why would the imbecile not dive out of the way himself? It didn't take much for England to comprehend the _heroic_ intentions, even in that chaotic situation. America was still trying to save everyone before himself because he was so _damned _irrefutable in his self entitlement. England was going to be, no doubt, America's last daring venture, but England didn't want to sit idly by like the _damsel in distress_ again. He wouldn't let America take this blow, so England had let his actions take control and grabbed his former colony.

Because of the immediate plunge into black obscurity, England assumes he was successful in taking the hit, but then…why wasn't he beneath the wall as well?

England struggles, but manages to lift the heavy burden up to peek beneath it and is greeted with nothing but an abused wooden floor. He drops the wall all at once and falls to his knees, his eyes misting over at the dreadful scenarios racing through his mind. "America…where are you?"

The memories are fleeting, but England recollects Prussia being buried…and before that he was passing Japan and Italy carrying Germany down the hallway and…!

"The basement!" England jumps to his feet with renewed hope. Even if America and Prussia are not in the safe zone, nearly the entire world is! There is little to stress about with everyone lending a helping hand. He sprints just out the door to the small hallway, but stops short.

Just beyond the dilapidated threshold is a vast meadow stretching out to what appears to be fading mountains in the distance. Beautiful flowers of various colors and species cover the field in no specific order, offering their blooming buds up to the sun. It is a spectacular sight. The gentle breeze blows ever so slightly over the blooms, mixing them into a wave of wonderful patterns reminiscent to turning a kaleidoscope.

England is conflicted with feeling awestruck and terrified all at once. Never before has he seen something so astonishing and serene, but that is part of the horror: where is this? Because it definitely isn't New York. And where is the rest of the conference building?!

Panic rises fast when the plain truth sits staring him in the face, but he refuses to acknowledge the idea of being strewn across the United States on the back of a cyclone; it is ridiculous! If anything, surely the remainder of the building was lying around somewhere. Figuring out where he is will come after finding his fellow countries.

England makes his way around the conference room just like he would if the small hallway was still attached and leading to the main hall. To his utter horror, he meets with the same results: an endless field of flowers that fades into mountains in the far distance. No sign of a disturbance from the remainder of the building.

His knees shake and buckle beneath him. He sits uncomfortably where his legs collapsed, staring through the surrounding flowers in shock. Never before had he felt so lost, alone, and powerless…

Sourness prickles within his nose and he covers his face when the hot tears roll down his cheeks.

"What has happened to everyone?"

A small rustling comes from ahead and England removes his hands from his face expectantly, only to see no one approaching. He quirks a brow when the rustling continues to grow closer and glances in all directions for something, anything.

As soon as he steals a glimpse behind him, something slams against his chest. He sputters at the unexpected attack and looks to his assailant, not quite expecting the tiny face panting up at him. "F-Flower-Egg? How on Earth did you get here?"

The white fluff ball yaps happily in return and jumps to try and reach England's face.

England smiles and holds up the cute puppy, chuckling as she licks the remaining tears off his cheeks. "There, there, sweet girl…" He pets the top of her head, feeling more at ease. "Where do you suppose your master, Finland, is, hm? Didn't I leave you with him…?" England remembers Finland being kind enough to take away his worry for America with the promise to hold Flower-Egg until he felt better. "If this is the case…then I suppose I will be keeping you for quite some time…" England ruffles the hair on Flower-Egg's head as she tries to nip at him. He places her on the ground so that he can stand and put his hands on his hips. "Right. Enough moping then, how about we find out where we are?"

Thankfully, having Flower-Egg prancing at his heels is enough to keep England from spiraling into a fit of hysteria with his emotions. It's funny how a small dog can provide a certain form of comfort in such a situation.

The unlikely pair makes their way back to the front of the conference room to scout out the area. England squints when he spots what looks to be the start of a road not too far off in the distance. Perhaps they can find someone that lives nearby if they follow it. Before he gives the idea much more thought, Flower-Egg sniffs the air and gives a small growl, tearing off ahead. England silently questions her behavior and follows behind to see what the fuss is. His blood runs cold when seeing a crumpled figure lying beside the damaged building.

Blond hair stands out against the dark attire, instantly directing focus to the one country constantly coming to mind. "America!" England dashes to the country's side, but discovers quickly that it's not his former colony. "G-Germany…?"

There is a large gash stretching from Germany's eyebrow back into his scalp. The normally slicked back hair is tousled about and hanging loosely around his face. The section surrounding the cut has turned a gruesome brown from the dried blood and is matted to his scalp. England observes the side of Germany's face to find streaks of the dried liquid and a small pool of it next to his head. England gingerly touches the clammy, pale skin and thinks he may be sick when the body is much too cold to be living. "Germany, no…please don't be…"

England glances down at the unusual wardrobe on the German man. He is wearing what appears to be a cloak, the color a deep green with gold and black trimmings creating small curling designs. Beneath is a tunic and trousers of the same color with fewer trimmings and black boots completing his attire.

England grabs Germany's shoulder to hopefully shake him out of his comatose state.

There is a loud cracking sound just ahead of him. It booms in a likeness to lightning and causes England to jump.

"_Get away from him_!"

England is struck by something powerful and sent flying to his back. He dazedly blinks up at the sky, a funny feeling tingling throughout his shoulder and arm where he was hit. Wait, this feeling, it… England sits up and glances at the black scorch mark on his suit. This is…_magic_!

Flower-Egg rushes into his lap with little whimpers. England pets her fur to help calm her down while he eyes the figure hunched over Germany's body. This person is wearing a cloak much like Germany's, only in a deep royal blue color with a more intricate pattern of silver and black trimmings.

England's eyes widen when the figure begins to stand, a flash of white hair catching the sun's rays. "Prussia…?"

The ex-country turns to England with a menacing sneer. "You killed him…"

England's heart rate picks up at the utter pain and hostility in Prussia's voice and the weight of his statement. "No, I-he-he was fine! Japan and Italy, I saw them-"

"_You killed him_!" Prussia slings his arm and faces his palm towards England.

A small burst of fire erupts from Prussia's hand and comes spiraling towards England. He quickly rolls out of the way, encasing Flower-Egg in his arms. His thoughts are racing in his panic. Germany was with Japan and Italy before, so why is he out here by himself now and how did he _die_? And why is Prussia accusing and trying to _kill_ England? _And_ _where the bloody hell did he learn this level of magic_?!

"I will never forgive you!"

England tries to stand to protect himself and Flower-Egg more efficiently, but another round of three fire bursts are spiraling at him. There was no rolling away from this one, but England was certain he could withstand the burns as long as Flower-Egg was protected. He completely covers the little, crying puppy behind his arms and legs, anticipating the searing pain.

A loud shatter of glass is heard and he peeks up to see the balls of flame explode against a round barrier before him. He blinks, knowing he hadn't the time to cast a defensive spell…

"Now, now…" England jumps at another voice speaking from behind him. "You shouldn't be running around setting fire to people. It's awfully rude," the scolding voice is familiar…

England turns his head to see Hungary pressing her hands to her hips. A strapless, light green dress sparkles and hugs her torso, showing off her lovely curves. It then billows out loosely past her waist, stopping just at her ankles to reveal light pink, dress shoes that match the lily behind her right ear.

Prussia doesn't appear phased by Hungary's entrance, as though this setting is normal for both of them. He points a finger to England. "Don't you fucking tell me I'm being rude! Do you have any clue as to what this guy did? _He killed my brother_!" England feels sweat trickling down his brow when he spots light flames dancing around Prussia's hands in his rage.

Hungary gives the limp figure on the ground a worried glance and starts to walk towards him. "I may be able to help-"

"You won't do a damn thing," Prussia growls lowly.

This stings the woman a bit and she stops in her tracks. Her soft features flare up in anger after a pause. "And all you're going to do is kill this poor man?" She throws a hand back at England. "That will prove nothing! Let me help." Hungary steps closer again, this time able to make her way to Germany's side.

The proximity between the two makes Prussia anxious. "Get away from him!"

Hungary sits lightly on her knees beside Germany and places a hand against the dried scar on his scalp. "Tell me, how is Roderich doing?"

England watches in confusion. Who is Roderich?

Prussia's fallen expression indicates there is no confusion in the name. He stands still, watching Hungary examine his brother. Then his demeanor suddenly turns very cold. "Always _Roderich_, huh? So that's what this is all about… You don't really care about my brother. You can act like you do, but guess what? You'll never see that stupid, stuck up, aristocrat again!"

Hungary flinches at the venom in Prussia's tone.

Prussia grabs the corner of his cloak before looking up to England. "Don't you worry; I'm not through with you." The albino man pivots on his heel, twirling the cape around to his other shoulder. The cloak encases the man and continues to spin until a flash emits from where he stood, emitting a loud cracking similar to before, and he's gone.

England has no clue to where he is, but the fact that Prussia is pulling high level magic with ease concerns him, especially with the murderous intentions the ex-country has. England sighs, knowing he can finally relax for the time being and eases his tense muscles. He reflects on the altercation between Prussia and Hungary while petting Flower-Egg to keep her from panting. "Take it easy, girl." He looks up to where Hungary sits with her quiet examination of Germany. At least she was a familiar face that didn't want to kill him.

England places Flower-Egg on the ground before standing to his feet and brushing himself off. He slowly makes his way next to the woman before speaking. "Thank you very much, Hungary, for stopping Prussia… I cannot fathom what would have happened without you."

The woman looks up to England and smiles weakly. "Why, you are very welcome, but I'm afraid my name isn't 'Hungary'."

England blinks in confusion before stammering, "T-Then who could you possibly _be_?" His face flushes at the rudeness of his question, but in all fairness he hadn't expected Hungary to say she wasn't Hungary!

The woman stands before England and lightly bows her head. "My name is Elizaveta and this is my home." She holds her hands out and smiles warmly. "I made this field what it is today and care for it and all of the people of these lands when they reach out to me. They have given me the title: 'The Good Witch'."

England is dumbfounded. He opens his mouth to respond, but finds he has nothing to say. How hard did that wall hit him? He rubs the back of his head, expecting a bump to be there, but finds none.

Elizaveta giggles behind a hand. "I always get this reaction from newcomers. I assure you, I do not practice the magic Gilbert displayed earlier. Why don't you tell me your name, dear?"

England chokes for a second and scrambles for anything but his real identity. Better to be safe than sorry since his own fellow countries appear to be completely mental… "I-er, my name is…Arthur." He lets out a breath. Arthur is a respectable name.

"Very nice to meet you, Arthur." Elizaveta curtsies politely. "I do wish it was under better circumstances."

"As do I, Elizaveta, but it cannot be helped… Tell me, that man before, you said his name was Gilbert?"

"Yes." Elizaveta's eyes are dim as she looks to the ground. "We used to be close, but we didn't agree on many things. It was largely due to how he utilized his magic." Her eyes flicked to England's burnt suit sleeve. She lifts a hand and brushes the charred material as if brushing off dust, only her touch regenerates his sleeve back to normal.

"That's amazing!" England fingers the material in wonder and a smidge of envy. "How do you do it so easily?"

"Ludwig and I learnt and practiced together." Elizaveta turns to the man England knew as Germany. "He has always been the sweeter brother…"

"So…Ger-er, Ludwig… _He's_ _dead_?" England can barely hear himself speak the words.

Elizaveta hesitates then nods sadly. "Gilbert wasn't…wrong. I feel no heartbeat and his skin is so cold, but…I can…" Her gaze is far off for a moment and then snaps back quickly. "Oh, listen to me. I've kept you far too long!" She shakes the raw emotions from her face and tries a fake smile. "You must be a busy man. I assume you will be heading to the capital dressed as such." She then gives his suit an appreciative look over.

England tries to explain himself and his situation, but is interrupted by Flower-Egg yapping and tugging on the end of Elizaveta's dress. "F-Flower-Egg, stop that right now!"

Elizaveta bends down and pets between the puppy's ears. "Flower-Egg? What a strange name." She laughs and continues petting the puppy.

England turns red. "She's not mine…" He coughs into his hand and continues on with their conversation. "And I'm not heading to the 'capital'. I'm…a bit lost, truthfully."

"Oh no…" Elizaveta stands and gives England all of her attention. "Where are you from? Perhaps I can help you."

"I was in America last…Manhattan, New York, precisely."

The bewildered, owlish look Elizaveta responds with makes him feel foolish. "Oh dear…"

"You haven't the slightest idea where it is, do you?"

"I have never even heard of it…"

This couldn't be happening. England holds his forehead and tries to keep from stomping and screaming at this poor Hungary look alike; she was much too nice and shares a love for magic… A thought crosses his mind.

"Is there a chance you can send me back home? Without even knowing where it is?"

"Arthur, my magic is not nearly strong enough, and even if I could, it would be too dangerous! So many things can go wrong with a transportation spell…"

"Damn it!" This situation is getting more and more maddening, but England is grateful for Elizaveta's honesty. Transportation isn't something to be freely tampered with.

"I'm so sorry. I do wish I could help you." Elizaveta concentrates heavily on the ground for a moment. "Ah, but you can still go to the capital!"

"What's in the capital?" England hates to get his hopes raised again, but the woman's eagerness rubs off on him.

"The all powerful wizard lives there! When I cannot provide the right service, I send the people around here his way. He is supposed to work wonders. I am certain he can send you home." She smiles so brightly, but something in the far corners of England's mind raises doubt. Something about what she is saying…it sounds uncomfortably familiar. He just cannot put his finger on it.

"Even if you decide against going, I'm sure you will encounter Gilbert again." Elizaveta turns to Ludwig's body, muttering an apology as she unclasps his cloak and hands it over to England. "Here, Ludwig placed a protective charm on his cloak."

England gives the garment a dubious look over. If only Elizaveta knew the morbid irony of this…

"But you must be careful; it only protects the wearer from magic."

Well, that explains it. "Thank you very much, Elizaveta. You have been a great help." England pulls the large cloak over his shoulders and clasps it. It's much too big for a person of his stature, but he wouldn't complain if it keeps him safe.

Flower-Egg finds entertainment in the fabric bundled around England's feet from being so long and rolls her little body against it, biting here and there. England chuckles and pulls the cloak enough to roll her over, exciting her playfulness further. "Right then, so where is the capital?"

Elizaveta points to the road England had spotted in the distance before the dispute with Gilbert. "It's within the City of Petalite. You only need to follow the yellow brick road."

England can feel his very being crumble as the familiar tune hums in his head: _We're off to see the Wizard. The wonderful Wizard of Oz._

Bollocks…

Chapter Two End

**Ta-da!**

**Sadly, I have received no feedback on this story so far. If you do have an interest in this story, please let me know! This is fun to write, but motivation dies when there doesn't seem to be anyone else enjoying it.**


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